


Syllabary

by beautywithoutcaution



Category: Loveless
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-30
Updated: 2010-01-30
Packaged: 2017-10-07 01:35:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beautywithoutcaution/pseuds/beautywithoutcaution





	Syllabary

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the anonymous kink meme at http://inksheddings.livejournal.com/76402.html](/gifts?recipient=the+anonymous+kink+meme+at+http%3A%2F%2Finksheddings.livejournal.com%2F76402.html).



It was always agonising for Soubi to watch the students trickle out of school one by one, focusing on each glimpse of the older kids, dark-haired boys, waiting, hoping for each shape to resolve itself into one more familiar than the rest.

Today, Ritsuka wore that black jacket with the white lines streaming down the sleeves. He seemed to be in a hurry, running out of the school that fast... Perhaps he was trying to get out before Yuiko found him, because she did, and she chased him down the stairs. Soubi watched from his distant post at the gates as Ritsuka ducked around a corner.

"Ritsuka-kun!" Yuiko shouted after him, trying to get his attention. He wouldn't answer, Soubi knew. He'd seen the boy actually dodge to hide from her. Clearly today Ritsuka didn't want to see her.

"Ri... tsu..."

Soubi bit back a sharp intake of breath. She had stopped there. Ah. She was looking around for Ritsuka. That was no longer what Soubi was listening to.

He'd only ever listened to those syllables _stop there_ in his imagination long ago, and the memory shot thrills of adrenaline-laced recognition through him.

Of course he would never, never in a thousand years dare to stop there, to speak with such unabashed familiarity. Such impertinence towards his (former. Former) master was intolerable in the highest degree.

But once, he had imagined a someday that never arrived. That when he was given a sacrifice (Given. As if he could own such a creature), when intimate threads of gold plunged themselves into his soul and wound around him, when true names no longer made common syllables so distant, he would silence a title, and be forgiven his temerity for the tenderness it broached.

That wound was old and still sore, rubbing at Soubi painfully even as his spirits leapt at the sight of the young boy creeping out of the school gates.

Ritsu-ka, Ritsu, my love, my heart, the syllables pounding in my head. It always hurt, no less.


End file.
